A Bearable Fate
by Peruna
Summary: When one is reincarnated, one might expect to be reincarnated as a human, if one expects anything. That was not the case for me. I spent my second life as a bear. That had upsides and downsides, but I'd give it an 8 out of 10, would do it again. SI-OC, Warring-Clans-Era, Rated M for violence and adult themes


**Hehe, go procrastination! I have been feeling pretty down the last week and working on the next chapter of Lizard Brain did not help with that, so I thought I'd do a little more light-hearted one-shot. Didn't turn out to be that light-hearted in the end, but the unconventional perspective was still pretty fun to write. I hope you enjoy reading it as much as I enjoyed writing it.**

 **By the by, this story was inspired by the _One Piece_ fanfiction "Through a Canine's Eyes" by NyanWolfy. I had originally wanted to write the whole Self-Insert shebang for an Inuzukas ninken, but I couldn't think of an interesting plot for that, so ninken became bear and the plot for this story is pretty removed from the general story of _Naruto_. If someone else picks up the idea of a ninken-centric fanfiction, please or has done it already, please tell me, because that'd be awesome to read.**

 **Rated M for violence and mature themes.**

 **I do not own Naruto.**

Dying was a somewhat unpleasant experience. Adrenaline took the edge off the pain but put edges in a lot of different places. I wasn't exactly hurting, but I think that was more because I didn't have the mental capacity for anything outside of _RUN! OH MY FUCKING GOD, RUN! RUNRUNRUN! I CAN'T MOVE MY LEGS I'MTRAPPEDI'MGONNADIE!!!_

Have you ever watched _'T_ _he Revenant_? The movie where Leonardo di Caprio gets mauled by a bear? No? Well, the point I'm trying to make is: I got mauled by a bear. A giant fucking bear. The last thing I remember is staring right into that giant maw as it descends on me, because unlike Leo in that movie I didn't survive the experience. Doesn't mean I stayed dead though.

My mom would always say that I had _sisu_ , perseverance. That when I set my mind to it, I would never let go until I got what I wanted. Then she would unearth the horribly embarrassing childhood stories about the bratty, stubborn kid that I had been and I couldn't even refute them, because I totally remembered ninety percent of them. Plausible deniability, thy name is not mine.

The point to this random rambling about about my childhood is: I wanted to live. And that is what I did. Despite dying. Stubborness transcending death. Ultimate _sisu._ Maybe. Probably not though, since I don't remember being dead, just that burning desire to see another day in my last moments on earth.

I like to imagine that I pouted for a whole eternity until the grim reaper finally got annoyed enough to stick my soul back into the next readily available warm body just to get rid of me. Maybe he even went to look around for the perfect fit. I can't explain the irony otherwise.

Because, you see, I was reborn. Not as a human, but a bear. And the first thing I see in this weird, wild and _wicked cool_ new body is the gaping maw of another bear descending on me.

 **-O-**

Of course being mauled is not the first thing that happens to me after I get born with an anatomy that isn't quite what I'm used to. That would be a warm tongue rubbing down my back, then again over my head, then my forearms. A gentle but powerful nudge has me tumbling over and the tongue goes to town on my underside.

Other than you might think, it's a very nice feeling. Like a big, warm hug. Or getting petted. Or my mum brushing my hair even when all the knots are already gone. I'm a touchy-feely person, I'll admit it, and after that whole disorienting experience of _getting mauled to death_ _by a huge ass death machine,_ the cozy surroundings paired with the reassurance and comfort given by non-violent touch are very welcome.

As a newly born cub, I can not hear, can not see anything, but I don't need to. Right now, I only need to feel.

After a while the tongue simply vanishes and I do not like that. Flailing around, I somehow managed to get my limbs under me. Trying to get up is difficult. Impossible right now, I decide and crawl instead. That doesn't really work well either but I deem it better than constant stumbling and falling over.

Once I figured out a method of transportation and start inching in the direction that is straight ahead of me, I feel a little better. When my nose meets a dirty, cold resistance that feeling vanishes.

 _Eew. What an ugly feeling, I think there is earth stuck on my nose!_ I blow air out of my nose with all my might. The earth dislodges a bit but not really all that much, which annoys me greatly. I'm pretty exhausted from that huff already, so I lay my head down and just breath for a moment.

It smells like earth. Which might be because that's most probably what is currently stuck on and right in front of my nose.

 _Also, my body feels weird_. This is the first time I consciously have that thought. _On a human the nostrils point downward, but mine point wherever I move my head, otherwise there wouldn't be grainy dirt stuck in them._

I blow out air again. My nose is almost free of dirt. Good enough for now.

 _Also, why is my nose so sensitive? That's new._

Slowly I move my right hand to paw at the offending appendage.

 _Ouch, thats my eyes. Forehead, nose, mouth. Bleh, my hand tastes like shit._

It's hard to really determine what I feel, because both my motor skills and my sense of touch have dulled, and I have trouble believing my findings.

The shape my face takes before my inner eye is not a human one. Somewhat distressing, that. I appear to have a muzzle. My eyes sit over a protruding nose, which is not that new all things considered. The fact that my mouth is right there under the nose, protruding away, _is._

 _Am I not human anymore?_

With that in mind, _Are my hands actually hands?_

Despite not wanting to taste it again, I stick my hand into my mouth and gum at it.

 _Yup, still horrible culinary-wise. Zero out of ten, would not eat again. Also, not a hand, definatly a paw._

I spit it out.

I can't really think of anything to think about that.

 _I'm getting kind of cold. Better head back._

Easier said than done. Or thought than done. I have an incling that I won't be speaking for a while yet ... If ever. Whatever animals have muzzles are not known for their eloquency. More their teeth, of which I have none of at the moment.

 _Whatever. Heading back now. Aany moment now. Juust gotta turn around._

My feeble attempts are cut short, when I do feel something like teeth closing around my head. Too confused to panic, I am gently lifted and placed next to a giant body of heat.

It's already crowded.

Someone else is half under, half next to me and that soneone is wiggling and pushing at me, which I don't really appreciate.

 _What are they being such a dick about?_

Then I smell it. It's sweet and alluring, even more so than the musty smell of the giant next to me. It reminds me that I'm starving.

Instantly I understand the other. However, I have the upper paw here, so they better get out of the way!

I find out that milk is delicious when you're starving.

It is also delicious when you're hungry.

It is also delicious when you are kind of bored and can't think of anything elso to do.

It is especially delicious when you hog it after fighting your brother over it and winning. Sweet, sweet victory milk.

That is all I do for a long time. Even after my ears pop and my eyes open, my time is spent by drinking, sleeping, fighting my sibling over prime drinking spots -there is only one, the one I'm at- and cuddling between him and the giant mount of fur that is our mother.

It's hard to measure time, since we don't see daylight, like, at all in here. But my brother and I grow exponentially and spend more and more time fighting -or playing really, because that's what it is- and finally our mother has enough.

She gets up, shaking us off her, and simply pushes through the snow at one side of our hidey hole with her shoulder.

The white stuff gets _everywhere_ and we squawk in indignation at the sudden cold that rushes through the opening mother behind.

I look at my brother, then at the blinding light, then back at him.

He looks at me. He takes a step towards the former wall of white. He looks at me again, taunting me.

I narrow my eyes. _Bring it on._

Our first adventure to the outside world begins with a race, continues with jumping through the powdery snow piling higher than we were - _Ah, that's cold!_ \- and ends up with me bodychecking my brother into the winter whites over and over and over again. _Hehe, that never gets old._

Mama bear simply trudges paths through an obstacle we couldn't have overcome without them, so we follow her around while we play and take a look at this whole new setup.

It's exciting. I can't wait what the world has to offer me as a bear that I could have never experienced as a human. A whole lot, appearantly.

 **-O-**

Sometimes I wonder where exactly I am. As a human, I had lived in central Europe in a country so overrun by mankind that we had only little in the way of wild countryside left. It was all either used as agriculture or built upon with brick and concrete.

I remember there being one lone brown bear, one that had wandered into our borders by accident, that spent a few months absolutely lost, unable to find a suitable territory to settle down in, traversing half the country before it stumbled into one of our conrete dschungles. Once there, it was overwhelmed by the pure madness such a thing is to a wild animal like that and hat to be put down.

I don't think we had any more wild bears after that, so I'm pretty sure, I'm not in my home country at least. Former home country. Not that it matters to a bear where it was born.

How I got myself killed by a bear if there weren't any native in my home, you ask?

Well, I didn't do something stupid, like climb into an enclosure at the Zoo to pet the cutey wittel cubbie babies. No. Nu-uh. Althought petting a bear cub has to be one of those things I had imagined from time to time. But no. I'm not that stupid, thank you very much.

I was taking a hike in the US of A, since they actually had some wild nature left.

... Okay, so maybe taking a hike alone in the wilds without prior experience wasn't the smartest thing to do either, but in my defence: I wasn't that far into the trail when the attack happened and I didn't plan on going very far, just a day-long hike along one of the shorter routes.

Hmm, now that I think of it, I maybe shouldn't have run away from the bear. Wasn't that like one of the things they teach you? Don't remember, but from a bears perspective I can safely say, it was a dumb thing to do.

Why, you ask? Well, easy! Say it with me: Chasing. Things. Is. Hella. Fun!

I loved chasing things. Rapid rabbids, squishy squirrels, dainty deer ... even molesting moose is fun, although they tend to fight back ...

Even better! A good chase and then a good fight! With mama bear at my back, there's no real reason to worry. She's way bigger than that puny moose. And by bigger, I don't mean taller -this thing is about the same height as her when they're both on all fours- but more massive.

Like, four times as massive as the moose.

She's a giant.

Right now, just a giant shadow between the trees, watching me do awesome battle with my chosen prey.

The moose is bigger than me, his crown impressive and not something I want to get hit with. But I am nimble and cautious and much smarter than him. I feint a charge, only to stop short when he throws his head to the side and up. Those horns miss me by hairesbreath as I crouch back and spring myself at his throat.

My jaws snap shut and with my mass and momentum, I tear the animal to the ground, crushing it's throat.

Hot blood wells up between my teeth and I take a gulp before letting go. Wild satisfaction washes over me as the moose dies. It's savage, but it's also my instincts and really that is natural, innit? That wild predatorial side is much stronger than it ever was in my first life and I see no reason for human morals to interfere with my survival.

Okay, no, that's not true. I'm never cruel, when I don't have to be. After a good exhilirating hunt, I kill my prey quickly. Just because I enjoy the hunt doesn't mean I hunt excessively either. I do hunt a lot, but that's because I'm a growing girl with the appetite of a ... well, of a bear.

But I have decided long ago, during my first hunt along with mama bear, that I won't ever hunt a human. That's wasteful, dangerous and also bearly a snack.

Get it? Bearly? Because I'm a bear? Hahahahahaa, I'm not sorry and you can't make me. I love my puns. Slapstick is the only humor I can have anymore. Slapstick and the jokes I make in my head. It'd be unbearable to go without them.

You'll just have to bear with me.

Since I cannot forbear the bear puns.

I'll just imagine you are laughing with me.

Hahahahahahaa. Hehehehehehee. Hihihihihihii.

Heh. Maybe you have some strange _One Piece_ laughter, too.

Kereshishishishishi ... -shi.

Yes, perfect. Where was I? Oh yeah, hunting, feeding, no, hunting.

I look up from where I am absent mindedly tearing into my kill, licking sweet, coppery and still warm blood from my lips. Mmmmh. Dunno why it's so good, but I'll just blame the summer temperatures making me thirsty.

I don't have to think of reasons for my behaviour, but I do anyway. It's some exercise for a brain not entirely made for the life of a bear ... It's not dull or anything, but it's missing the kind of stimulous a verbal debate gives.

I'm getting lost in thoughts again, aren't I? _Focus, me, focus!_

Mama bear approaches. I lay my left paw on my kill possessively, ready to swipe at her with my right.

Again, this is instinct. I will show fight a little, but if she insists she can have some easily. She has raised me and my brother -I've mentally named him Sitka, he is, after all, my brother bear- and I am quite fond of her.

Mama bear doesn't want to gorge on the result of my first solo hunt, though. She stopps out of reach, with a proud set to her massive shoulders, and looks me straight in the eye. She makes a soft grunting sound and then rumbles contently.

My heart soars. She approves! Happily roaring, I buck a few times and jump around stupidly, smashing a few bones of my kill post mortem, but I don't care.

Mama bear laughts with me, a sort of huffing without any real vocals, but laughing none the less at my joy and antics.

Another joyful roar joins me, as Sitka bounds over and we immediately start show fighting because he came too close to my kill. But Sitka is my brother, so after I pin him to the ground somewhat hardly to show him who's boss, I let him eat with me.

Together we gobble the flesh and innards and skin down in no time. We are both, after all, still growing. We will probably not stop growing for a few years yet, when I look at mama bear, who towers over us still.

Once again, I wonder where exactly we are and whether the prey animals are just smaller here or if she is just that abnormally large. We have to roam a truly large territory to feed all three of us and have yet to meet a human. Maybe we are in Alaska? Or the Russian tundra? There are high mountans here, they mark one side of our territory, but that doesn't help me narrow it down much.

When only bones are left of the moose, Sitka and I crush those and chew on everything until it's mush. That takes a little, but helps us build muscle for a strong bite. Mama bear showed us to do it, so we do. She is the expert here.

She looks down on us from where she sat down. Still towering. But she hasn't eaten det and I worry a little.

 **-O-**

It is a month after that, after both Sitka and I had a few more solo hunts, that mama bear drives us off. With a terrifying roar she charges at us and chases us until the edge of her territory. We keep running, full speed, crashing through undergrowth and wasting stupid amounts of energy, but after we lost our mother Sitka and I had shared a look and made it a game.

It's a race now, whoever outlasts the other, wins.

I win, of course. I always win. I keep pelting forward as long as I can, even after he has fallen behind, and put keep on going at a more sedate pace for good measure.

It's when I come across a stream cutting through the forest that I stop. I drink for a good long while, then forego any etiquette and jump in. Rolling around in the shallows first and then wading to the middle of the stream where it's deep enough to feel the water rush against my belly.

That feels great on a hot summer day like this, so I stay for a while. Drinking a whole lot more and waiting for Sitka to join me. _If_ he joins me, that's his decision now.

He knows where I went thanks to our great sense of smell and the not-so-subtle path I've made for myself. He can choose whether to spend his bachelor years with his wonderful, not-at-all dominating older sister or rather alone until he finds his own place in the world.

I would not be surprised if he doesn't come. I can be a little overbearing.

... Huh? Any takers? Anybody?

Kereshishishishii.

Yeah, that's what I thought. I am just amazingly funny, aren't I?

I huff-laugh to myself and climb the other bank of the stream. Looking at the sky, I determine that the sun will set soon. _Now or never, Sitka._

After I sit under a tree and wait a little, the red and orange of the coming sunset starts stretching over the sky. There are a few reasons for and against my next actions and I take great care in imagine every argumenr before simply doing what I have planned. I stand up on my hind legs, take a deep breath and roar as loudly as I can.

My voice booms out of me, scaring the shit out of every living thing in the vicinity. Birds go flying for miles around and more than one prey animal can be heard making a hasty retreat. The roar echoes a little as it carries through the forest.

I wait. A moment, then two and three. There is an answering roar coming from pretty far aways and a lot more south than I expected. It seems Sitka has made his decision and split off in a different direction so that we won't stand in each others way.

That's fine.

I'm fine.

I'll carry on alone.

I grunt and fall back onto all fours. Then I head off, trotting West. Mother is East, Sitka goes South and in the North I can smell the ocean. Maybe I should see it, I haven't been at a beach for years and summer season is probably the best time to take a dip in a northern ocean.

So I do just that. I head North-West until I hit the ocean, go skinny-dipping -bears don't have any swimsuits or sexy bikini, obviously- and spend a whole day lazing in the sand, before continuing on.

I hunt when I'm hungry and sometimes when there is the opportunity. I eat all of my kill, no matter how long I have to chew on the bones. The only thing I don't eat is the occasional hoof or antler.

I try my hand at fishing and fail because saltwater in my nose hurts and I'm not that great of a swimmer. Maybe I should change that. Only practise will help, so spend half of every second day in the ocean near the shoreline paddeling away.

It's fun, I like doing it, but I have to be wary of the occasional fishing boat and settlement. Because, of course humans flock to any body of water they can. It is the MO of most civilasations I've ever heard of. They seem to be exceedingly rural and technologically deprived, I haven't seem or heard any motorboat yet nor any car or even airplane, now that I think on it. _Weird._

I give any and all human I see a lot of distance. Large wildlife is usually hunted by rural humans the world over, predators especially, because they're scary. I don't want to be hunted, so I eventually part from the ocean when the detours take up too much time.

Soon after that the terrain rises to large foothills and then mountains. The forests thin and recede, but I don't mind. I'm in the mood to explore, so I do.

I spend two weeks randomly climbing and descending the mountain range, cataloguing barren rifts and peaks and crevices and fertile valleys until one of those strike me as so pretty that I decide to stay.

It is a little bowl of a valley, tucked high up between three peaks and one rigde with an opening towards the foothills of this mountain range. The wind coming up the mountain carries moisture into the valley where it is caught, allowing for much more plant growth than usual for this altitude. In the mornings there are puddles where the dew accumulates, meaning I wont have to run quite as often to the river with it's rapids that runs through the mountains some distance away from here.

I absolutly love it. So I scour the connecting mountains for a hidey hole, find one and made myself at home. Just in time, too, because winter is coming -Dun dun duuun- and I still have some fattening up to do for hibernation.

To hunt, I leave my chosen den and don't return for two weeks, prowling through the forests and eating everything remotely edible. There are a lot of plants here that I don't know, so I stick to mainly hunting.

Large animals are rare close to my valley but the farther south I go, the more prey I run into.

I devour everything that crosses my path, except a human that seems to be on the hunt himself. _Sorry buddy,_ I think, _You won't find much._

When the first snow falls, I am much fatter and it's not just my thick winter coat. I'm fluffy, but also fat, more massive than ever before, in this life or as human. I'm satisfied with that. I'm ready.

I head for the den. I have to fight through a minor blizzard to reach it, but reach it I do. With a little effort I pile the snow that's now steadily falling in front of the cave entrance so that I won't be bothered by the wind much. Then I settle down to sleep and laze for the next months.

This is the good life.

 **-O-**

The human in the area have noticed my presence, how could they not have. Every year during fall, I come to clear up my den in the valley and then hunt and scavenge everything in the area. I don't really stick around for the rest of the year, preferring to roam and explore instead of staking claim to the territory and defending it, but I always come back a few weeks before the first snow and fall on the countryside like a plague of Locusts.

It must drive them mad, having to prepare for winter in summer already, because I make it impossible to do so in fall. I would be more apologetic, if I weren't _still_ growing. I don't even know when it will stop, but I am absolutely massive now, which is so weird. I'm so _powerful_ it's overwhelming.

Even just eating enough to maintain this much muscle would be a full time job, but ensuring I don't stunt my growth by eating too little is a headache and a half. It's part of the reason for my semi-nomadical lifestyle. If I were to stay in one place too long, it would hurt the ecosystem there and I don't want that.

But the humans don't know my plight. They get restless when I come back once again. This year I'm a little early so I decide to observe my unwilling neighbours a little.

Their settlement, a village with a palisade wall surrounding it, is almost a week at a brisk pace away and nearly directly South of my valley. It would take a human much longer, but that is a good thing in my books, because I don't want them finding my hidey hole anythime soon.

The road that runs through the gate and away in a southern direction is not paved. It is merely a trampled dirt track. Not even very wide, but it doesn't need to be because the few people that come and go do so on foot. There seems to be no electricity or signs of advanced technology. The only building that stands out to me is a forge with a conected ... smelter, maybe?

A few farm animals run around inside the wall. Lots of chickens, pigs and the occasional cow. They seem rather disconcerted by my presence although I'm not exactly close enough to see or smell me, it's as if a sixth sense warns them of the danger that I pose.

The animals' behaviour seems to alert the humans, because the people patrolling the walls get a lot more attentive and the ones outside are called in, so that they can close the gates. It's almost funny to see them so scared by something they have never even seen. Like I'm the bogeyman in their lifes. I watch for another day, amused that they don't ease up on the lockdown. Every traveller coming to the gates is ushered in quickly and the tension is obviously riding high.

In the evening of the second day, I leave. Not only because I'm very hungry, but also because frightened people might turn desperate or angry and form huge mobs that would probably inconvenience me. Mildly. As I said before: I am absolutely massive and I don't think that some backwater villagers with spears and pitchforks really stand a chance against me.

I use the humans defensiveness to hunt a lot closer to their village than I normally would, but I drag the carcasses away istead of eating my prey then and there, no need to give them an opening to surprise me.

 **-O-**

When I return the next year, the humans are wary still but have also become much more aggressive. They search for me once they realize that I'm in the area again. That leads to me coming a lot closer to the village than I really want, because I can't hunt nearer to my valley for fear of leading them to my den.

Somewhat annoyed I make a detour around their village and hunt south of it instead of north. There is more prey there too, even a large heard of some kind of bovine. I spend some time pondering wether or not they are farm animals, but they look pretty wild to me and there is no human around. So I fall on them, killing more than absolutely necessary, maybe, but if I eat plentiful here, I can retreat to my den already and simply sleep through the humans being antsy.

It's a feast. A giant, bloody feast. I eat more than my own weight in less than a day, for once leaving the bones of my meal, because I shouldn't stay here too long.

Satisfied that I can get to sleep now, even though the first snow will only fall in two weeks at the earliest, I trudge in a wide detour around the village back to the den, only hunting one or two deer that come too close and I can't help myself. In the den, I roll into a ball with my back to the entrance and doze off.

 **-O-**

For the first time, my hibernation is disturbed. Even though I heard the noise before, it didn't really register until now, when there is a sharp pain in my back.

I jump to my feet, roaring in discomfort. Whatever they are sticking in me is hindered by my thick, double-layered winter coat and tough skin. It still hurts though, so I spin around my paw already raised for a swipe. It connects and smashes a puny human into the stone wall of my den. There is a loud _crack_ of brocken bones and his head caves in.

The other humans standing at the entrance of my cave hesitate. I can see them cleary against the blinding white backdrop of a snow covered mountain side. They probably can't clearly see me in the dim of the cave. My fur probably blends well with the darkness making me look even scarier than I already am.

I can smell their fear, see their indicision, and stare at them, daring them to come closer. When one of them does so, I roar at him with all my voice.

It's almost like a physical blow. All of the puny humans stumble back. I understand their plight, my own ears are ringing from using my outdoor voice indoors. But that doesn't matter right now though, because I charge them and knock them all out of my den.

The whole party of ... thirteen men take a tumble down the mountain. They would be fine, probably, because there is already a lot of snow lying.

I watch them fall and wonder how they found my cave with this much snow to cover my tracks. The answer to that question comes soon enough in form of barking. A pack of dogs are jumping around the snow somewhat close to where I'm standing. They used tracking dogs to find me. Bastard mutts!

When I made that promise to myself all those years ago to never hunt humans, I hadn't thought about what I'd do when they hunted me. Right now, I wanted to tear them all to bits for tresspassing and waking me up, but they are still humans ... I shouldn't kill them until I absolutely had to, that would only further their hatred. But I really, really want to right now.

 _I guess I'll have to work out my frustration with the mutts._

With a single leap I among them taking one out with a single swipe and wounding another with the same move. They yelp and try to scatter and attack, but I lay waste to all of those that come in reach.

It's over quickly, the snow stained with red and tufts of fur sticking here and there. Both theirs and mine, because two of them have actually managed to bite me. On drew blood on my muzzle, the other on the pads of my right paw. One cowardly dog has survived by running off, the others are dead. A snack perhaps, for a later time.

My gaze drifts down to the humans in the valley. They are arguing amongst themselves, probably quiestioning whether or not the cowardly dogs approach is the wisest. It is, but I can see many are reluctantly agreeing to climb the mounain once more. _Why? They do not look like they have much fight left in them. Why try again, when they failed the first time?_

Maybe they want their comrade back. Humans usually to after death rituals, I remember that, so they might want his body back.

 _I can give them that. It's not like I would want to eat it anyway._

With a few bounds I am back in the den, pick up the discarded corpse by the neck and fling it down the mountain. It lands close to the encroaching group which freaks them out. A lot. They are shouting pretty loudly. So loud that it echoes.

 _If they're not careful, they'll cause an avalanche_.

 _Hey, I could try causing an avalanche. I can always retreat into the cave and weather the worst of it._

With that in mind, I let out another roar and stalk back into my cave. The roar echoes back and forth a little, but doesn't cause an avalanche. Too little snow still, I could only guess. The humans however don't climb up to me again, which I will count as a victory.

I wait and doze a bit before I go out again to eat the dead dogs. They're frozen stiff by now, but that's not a problem for me. After the snack, I try to find my peace again and go back to hibernating. This is the last time, I'll do it here, not with the humans knowing my position. I will have to find a new spot come fall. But that's a problem for another day.

The rest of the winter, I am undisturbed.

 **-O-**

Come spring, I am ready to move on. For the last time I look around my little valley. Four times I spent my winter here. It's the first den, I made myself. But all things come to an end and it is time to move on.

Maybe I should go South next, look for greener pastures, maybe even claim a territory and find a mate. No, not that last one. I feel that would be one of those weird things again. But going South sounds like a plan.

It is an early spring morning and I'm gratefully lapping up water from where the melting snow feeds a seasonal river through my valley. The liquid is freezing cold but tastes incredibly fresh and lifts my slightly sour mood.

Around me is nothing much to obstruct my field of vision, I have a good view of everything that moves, yet somehow I still miss the knife being thrown at me. I yelp in pain and surprise and flinch away from where something has impacted on my side.

My only warning for the second knife is the whistling of displaced air, but I jerk my head up and away fast enough that it misses and clatters to the ground. I turn in the direction the knifes have come from and see a strangely dressed man.

He wears dark green clothing, which would maybe help him blend into a forest setting, but doesn't help him much here. Over the clothing is an old-fashioned armour plate for the chest and forearm and chin protectors. The ensemble is completed by a dark grey cloak, boots and a neckeechief against the cold.

It's not this mans sense of style that I find slightly disconcerting, it is the fact that he is crouched on an almost vertical surface as if that is nothing special. I can't help myself. For a moment I can only stare at the man.

When he sends another knife my way the spell is broken. I dance away, like I would in a fight against a stag, and the knife embeds itself to the hilt in the boulder behind me.

... That is more than a little disconcerting, so I decide that I should retreat. Or, run away screaming, that works, too. Of course, I can't scream like a little girl the way I want to right now, but I do try my best to imitate it while I dash away.

The man follows me. He runs along the cliffside next to me, launching his knifes with a speed and power that frightens me. This person can very much kill me and this concept is so entirely new to me, I scramble for an appropriate response. Should I keep running or attack him?

He pulls even with me just before I reach the opening of the valley and I take a split second to reorient myself and attack. The man is surprised by the sudden shift in demeanor, caught flat-footed and takes a moment too long to get out of the way.

My pounce against the wall of stone misses him, but a fast swipe has my claws rasping over the metal of the breast plate, leaving deep gouges there. Then they dig into his side, where the plate ends. Soft fabric and flesh gives way as I pull my long claws through them. Immediately the wounds start leaking blood in great amounts.

The human shrieks, good enough for me. I don't know if the wound is mortal, but it will distract him enough for me to make a fast get-away.

Down the mountain, through the foothills, into the forest I run. First South, then East. I come across a wide open plain and run South again. The forests are denser there. Better to hide in, I hope. I just run and run and run until I fall over my own feet from exhaustion.

When I stop in the middle of a forest, my legs give out and I fall to the dirt. Trembling, I take a while to steady my breathing. I am exhausted and hungry and in pain.

In pain? I turn my head to inspect my flank. The dark fur is wet and sticky in a couple of places and I see the hilt of one of those weird knifes sticking out of my back leg. I contort myself to grasp it between my teeth, aggravating the other wounds and shifting the projectile still stuck in them.

With a grunt that can't quite express how much I'm hurting, I pull the knife out and straighten. I drop the thing and go to work on the others that are stuck deeper in my flesh. It hurts and bleeds too much for comfort but in the end I dig out the four remaining weapons. Then I lick my wounds, trying to soothe and clean them as best as I can.

Finally, I lay there and just pant for a while, waiting for the pain to dull. It takes some time and wanting for a distraction, I eye the throwing knives. They are much larger than I would have imagined and a lot thicker. Four distinct and sharp edges leading to a thin point, the hilt is as long as the blade with a large ring on the end.

The thing looks nothing like the throwing knives I've ever seen in my previous life, but the shape is still strangely familiar. Not something I had ever seen with my own eyes but maybe seen a picture of. I ponder that for a while, cautiously rolling the weird knives around with my claws and contemplate them.

Nothing comes to mind at first, but then it hits me. Kunai! That's what they are called. Used by ninja in midevil Japan. ... But not really the way they were used against me. The real ninja only used thrown kunai as a distraction, not as a real weapon. That was something portrayed in anime. In _Naruto_ , to be specific.

And come to think of it, the way that man was just running along the wall as if it were even ground kind of fits into that. In that anime such impossible feats were normal, because ... because ... Chakra, that was it. They used an energy called Chakra to stick to trees and breathe fire and hold lightning and stuff like that.

Is that a thing here, too? Maybe it was a good decision to run, when I did. That is not something I want to necessarily go up against.

A groan steals out of my throat and I lay my head on the ground. This is something I don't really want to think about, so I vote not to and since I am the only one with voting rights in my head the decision is quickly made to simply ignore anything supernatural right now. My eyes drift shut and I go to sleep.

 **-O-**

The new area I find myself in has a lot of giant bamboo forests instead of normal trees. My recovery from the stab wounds comes along nicely but there is no large game to hunt around here and that bothers me.

I'm hungry all the time. I forage what roots I can, dig up a few dens looking for their little mammal inhabitants and make my ways slowly east while trying to conserve energy.

The constant feeling of starvation eats at me, both loterally and figuratively. While my frame gets thinner and thinner, I get more and more irritable. My strength diminishes with my fading muscles and my fur looks shaggy and mangy because I haven't been able to scratch my winter coat off properly for fear of reopening my wounds.

All in all, I am miserable and take it out on my surroundings. It's not very subtle, the way random bamboo stalks are cut open by claw marks along my journey, but I can't bring myself to care. Every time my temper flares the surroundings take a hit. My temper flares more and more often until I finally, _finally_ reach a real, mixed forests and find the tracks of a boar family.

The boars are easy to find, I've been hunting and tracking for years now and they are some of the best prey animals, in my opinion. Their tracks are obvious, they can give a good fight and taste pretty good. Lots of fat and body mass, perfect for my needs right now.

When I come upon the family of boars, I charge right in. Not my usual MO, but taking them by surprise and wounding as many as possible in the first moments ensures that they won't be able to run away. Of course, that leaves me surrounded by six angry, adrenaline fueled, adult pigs.

It's a fight. I am uncomfortable weak after my hibernation and then about two and a half weeks of barely surviving. The boars get in a couple of hits before I can put them down. One of them manages to hit my back leg exactly where the still healing wound from the kunai is situated and bonedeep pain washes over my senses. I go berserk on the thing and it is dead in less than a minute, its companions following soon after.

Standing and panting in the blood soaked clearing, I sit on the disturbed earth and lick the wound clean before limping to the nearest corpse and sating my hunger.

 **-O-**

My leg heals badly. It hurts with every step even after the skin closes and the flesh knits together again. It is fully functional but a pain to move. I must ignore it in favour of hunting and roaming though, I have not time to rest it. Maybe that is why the pain never leaves, maybe it's because I didn't get any medical attention. However it is, I learn to live with it.

About two months after the incident with the boars, when spring turns into summer, I meet a group of humans. I am too distracted by the pain in my leg and the trail of deer I am following to recognise them at first for what they are until I am smack dab in their line of sight.

I stop and stare. They do the same. I wonder what I should do. Unprovoced attack doesn't sit right with me but I also don't want to show them my back during a retreat. So while I figure it our, I simply stand in all my towering glory and face them head on.

I haven't recovered all of my mass yet, but I'd like to think that I am still an intimidating figure, since am as tall as they are and only standing on all fours. However, the humans aren't as flighty as I would have preferred. This situation would easily solve itself if they would just scurry off. They don't. Pretty brave. Or maybe they are just smarter than I was, when I was human. Running away from a bear is, after all, how I got myself killed back then.

Well, if I'm not backing off and they are not backing off, then it seems that we have found ourselves in a standstill.

Nobody moves.

I observe the group before me.

Three men and a woman, all are dressed sensibly in long pants and shirts and all wearing some kind of uniform, green jacket with a symbol on it. Maybe they belong to a kind of military? They dress the same and two of the men carry katana, while the other two don't, but all of them are carrying pouches of varying shapes and sizes on their belts.

Looking closer, they not only dress the same but also look very similar in their features. Are they related? Like a family or clan, maybe? If I do compare my experiences with the vague information I retained from an anime called _Naruto_ , I can be almost certain that these people hail from the same clan. And clans are more of a ninja thing in that context, I think.

Maybe I really shouldn't attack them. But considering my previous encounter with a supposed ninja, I don't want to let them out of my sight or, heavens forbid, give them opportunity to rain more metal into my sides. So I continue to stand unmoving.

They are also looking me over. I don't know what they are thinking, can't even guess, but they only seem mildly concerned instead of terrified. That points towards them being ninja, or at least confident in their combat abilities, as well.

We stand for a while, the only movement being the shifting of weight that the humans do. I can almost imagine a tumbleweed blowing through the clearing. When they don't move aggressively towards me, I am a little soothed. Not wanting to present my flanks or backside but still willing to take the first step towards looking unthreatening, I plant by behind on the ground.

 _Whump_ It jarrs my leg painfully but it's worth it when I see that the humans relax slightly.

But then they do something unexpected. They sit down as well. _Why? Why do you sit? Why can't you just go away, so that this encounter can end?!_ I won't lie, a part of me despairs at the stupidity of humans at that moment. _This is so dumb, why do they want to spend time near a giant, dangerous, wild bear?_

I huff at them, annoyed. They look at me still as if expecting me to do something or the other. I don't. I huff and growl until they seemingly turn to each other and start talking in calm tones. They don't really take their attention away from me though.

This goes on for longer than I really want to admit. I'm stubborn sometimes and they _are_ ninja ... at least probably. It is absolutely normal to be wary of them. But after what seems like hours, I have enough. I heave myself up to my feet and limp off. My leg is killing me and I haven't eaten yet so I need to get a move on. Behind me the voices of the human group fade, they haven't moved. Good.

I find a herd of deer later that day, but there is another human with them and I've had enough interaction with the two-legged annoyances so I leave them alone and keep going. I find some boars later on and kill two of them to eat.

That was that, I think. I see no reason why the humans would feel the need to bother me again. They obviously do though, because two days later I am being followed by one of them.

I halt in my tracks and look up to the branch the human is perched on. He looks like an owl the way he is crouching there silent and still. It is one of the groups humans.

I stare at him for a good long while, before he moves to sit down, legs dangling loosely from the branch.

I huff and keep going. The human gets up and follows, leaping from branch to branch like an oversized monkey. It bugs me that I have no idea what he wants, but I can hardly get to him, the flimsy branches wouldn't hold my weight if I tried to climb the tree.

The man tails me for most of the day, even while I'm hunting. His presence becomes something that burns at the back of my mind in everything I do, but he is stealthy and does not interfere with my actions, so I can't really complain about the stalker. I am furthering human-bear relations, am I not?

Yeah, I keep telling myself that, but I'm pretty sure he is here to make sure I won't attack any of his clansmen or break into his village and kill a toddler or something. Just because he seems neutral doesn't mean he is.

That becomes clear when he gets more and more nervous in the following days. I get why. There are more and more human tracks around and I think I might be getting close to a settlement. When he suddenly overtakes me and puts himself in my way, I am not all that surprised. It's reckless of him, but I bet he has something to protect there. It's one of the stronger motivators for humans and in such a dangerous environment they will have learned to harness it for bravery. I don't mind, content to change direction in order to avoid conflict.

Then he draws a kunai though and that is not acceptable. With a roar I charge at him and he is so surprised at my sudden change in demeanor or maybe the speed I can force my body to that he reacts too slowly. I bowl him over and place my frontpaws on his arms to pin him spread eagle under me. Then I roar into his face, showing off my huge fangs and blasting him with no doubt foul breath.

He is stunned and I use that to get off and run away. If he even thinks about using his weapons against me then he is not safe to be around. I take no pride in the hit and run, but it is better than a fight and better also than a murder. It's the last time I see the human for a while, because I leave the territory of his clan in a fast hurry and head North again towards the ocean.

 **-O-**

I don't know how I get into these situations. I admit it freely, I have no fucking clue what I have done wrong to deserve this. Why is everywhere I go suddenly crawling with humans? Is this just back luck?

With a pained roar, I fight against my bounds, but the wire only cuts deeper into my muzzle and legs. That doesn't stop me. I don't want these humans to catch me. Who knows what they want?

It is a group that has attacked me before. They are ninja and I have finally found the answer on whether or not the whole chakra thing from _Naruto_ is applicable here. It is, because one of them is using weird earthbender techniques to rain heavy stone boulders on me. This time, I cannot dodge or flee because I ran into this wire trap and am all trussed up.

Something in my shoulder cracks under the pressure as I am pinned to the ground and I give a breathless roar of pain. Then I can do nothing more than pant while the humans approach. Two of them are carrying metal contraptions that I have the uncomfortable feeling are supposed to be bindings. Bindings for me. These humans want to catch me, not kill, and I am uncertain which would be worse at this point.

When they reach me on one the humans sits on top of my head to hold it down, while another rearranges the wires so that he holding the ones that ceep my snout closed. He tightens his hold on them and pulls so hard that they cut deeply into my skin and lips. My panting intesifies and I struggle a little but there is nothing I can do while a metal harness is slid over and around my head and snout. The wires are released in favour of fastening the buckles that will keep my mouth shut in their stead.

Once the harness is in place and painfully tight, the human gets off my head. Immedately I lift it and try shaking the contraption loose but it doesn't move an inch. I try everything I can think of to get it off, but it only rubs against my wounds and traps one of my ears under a strap. Meanwhile there are other contraptions secured on my body. I can't see them but I can hear chains clicking and feel the bonds against my legs.

It takes an excruciatingly long time before I am freed of the boulders in order to finish binding me with their chains. I don't give them time to do so though, I lurch up, ready to run, but trip because one of my front paws has been tied to that horrible head harness. With my full momentum I bury my face into the dirt. I hear laughter. The humans are laughing at me as they continue to take away my freedom.

 _This is hell,_ I decide, _Why am I in hell?_ I find no answer.

After yet more time passes while I simply lay still waiting for it to be over, the humans start stinging me. I pull my head up and look at them. They have procured spears or more like sharpened sticks and are poking them into my sides. I have no idea why they do it, so I keep still. Then something tugs on the head harness yanking my snout forward.

I cross my eyes to see two ropes attached to the buckle around by snout, almost like leashes. On the end of those ropes two humans stand, pulling. A particularly painful stab in my side has me twitching forward and at that moment I understand what they want. They want me to move, to follow their lead and if I don't they will keep stabbing me.

So I try to get up, balancing on three legs while holding the fourth up awkwardly to not pull my own head down into the dirt. Once I get it, the stabbing pains relent a little, but there is one overenthusiastic human that keeps at it, while I hobble along as best as I can.

My whole body hurts.

 _This is hell._

 **-O-**

The group of humans that has captured me doesn't bother to feed me or tend to my injuries. Once they brought me into their secured camp, they start _taming me_ , teaching me commands like "attack" and "down" and it is humiliating and painful and pure torture. They know no positive reinforcement and starve me until I am weaker than ever before to make me compliant.

I give up at some point. I give up on the hope to escape, I give up on the idea that my life will ever be enjoyable again and I do what they say without thought. The only distraction I have during this horrible time is language. Because I am around humans again and I can hear them talk and debate and argue. I hate them, but still I listen. It has been so long since I have heard the smooth flow of words and I am so desperate to escape my situation that I throw myself into learning the language they speak. I let my mind wander around their conversations, close my eyes and just listen.

The first time my captors take me out of their camp it is to terrorize a small village with my presence. I have lost so much weight and am so weak, I have no idea why they are afraid. The overenthusiastic one stabs me until I roar of pain and that seems to be enough to make the people compliant.

They let my captors raid their homes and only when one of them comes out of a hut pulling a girl along with them do they object. The villagers yell and run forward to free her, but my zealous tormentor stabs me and commands me to attack. I lunge forward and swipe at the poor people. One of them is hit, but I leave only supervicial scratches.

The villagers back off and the girl comes with us back to my captors camp. I hear her screaming and crying all through the night and the next day. It is hard to listen to that, but I force myself to do it. I know how it feels to scream and have no one listen to you. The least I can do is to hear her pleas.

When the men are done with the girl they throw her at me. "Attack!" my tormentor demands. He doesn't have his spear with him, because he is barely even clothed. I wonder why that is and why he is wanting to kill the girl. Maybe he wasn't satisfied with the way she screamed, he seems to be the sadistic type.

I don't know his reasons but I lunge forward and punce on the girl, throwing her on the ground and burying her under my bulk, which is mostly fur at this point. When I try to open my mouth for a bite, they are obstructed by the ever present harness.

Looking at my tormentor, I work my jaws as if chewing and he understands. A vicious smirk playes over his features and he is stupid enough to coply, loosening the buckle over my snout completely, then backing off.

For one long moment, I look at him, opening my maw and stretching it as wide as I could, revelling in the freedom it gives me. Then I plunge my head down onto the give and make a big show of biting into her shoulder. She screams and struggles although my bite is not enough to really hurt her, it doesn't even break the skin. I readjust my grip, so that a line of my teeth press against the base of her throat. She stops struggeling and lies completly still.

I look up again at my tormentor, who is watching with a very satisfied expression on his face, and shift my body over the girl possessively, hiding her from view and maybe smothering her a bit, but she's smart and doesn't move still. The man laughs at me and goes back into his hut without a look back. He probably expects me to eat her body. I won't though.

When he is gone and nobody else is in sight, I get off the girl and roll up close by the pole I'm chained to. She lies still for a couple more minutes during which I find one of my many wounds and rub my snout against it, hopefully smearing some blood into the fur around my mouth.

Then I use the opportunity to lick all my wounds clean for the first time since my capture. A few of the older ones taste off, probably infected, but I can only hope that it's not so bad.

The girl finally shifts and gets up, staring at me. I turn to observe her as well. She is naked and dirty, but there is nothing I can do about that. With a grunt I shift my head to stare in the direction of her village.

She takes a step closer to me. Then she bows with a whispered "Thank you", before running off home.

I watch her retreating form and roll up a little tighter. It makes me feel good to have accomplished something for her, but it also stings that I can't free myself while she can escape.

 _This is hell_ , I think once again.

 **-O-**

Shortly after the incident with the girl, my captors feed me for the first time. It is only scraps, a drop of water on the hot stone, only increasing the clenching hunger, but it is the mark of a change.

My tormentor becomes my primary handler. He is the one who holds my leash, who sicces me on people and who feeds me after a successful raid when supplies are plentyful. His lust for the violence I can inflict is great and I learn quickly to produce shallow but profusely bleeding wounds on my victims. I learn how to use my little strength to satisfy his hunger for power without killing those unfortunate enough tho cross his way.

My captors eventually break camp and move further South as winter approaches. They raid every village they come across and I get a lot more practise in non-lethal take downs. But in reality, I don't even know if my victims die later of bloodloss or infection. The only thing I know is that they don't die immediately.

During the trek South we also come across small groups of people going about their daily buisness. Most of them see us early and are fast enough to run, but after we raided a small settlement deep in these forests we are attacked for the first time.

The group of attackers outnumbers my captors two to one and they are very proficient in their use of weapons and jutsu, tearing into my captors without warning and to devastating effect.

While his comrades clash with the attackers my tormentor opens the buckle on my snout and loosens my other bindings before swinging himself onto my back and holding onto a chain that runs over my shoulders.

"Attack!", he shouts and I feel him drive a kunai into my shoulder. I roar and charge forward, bowling over a few fighters without care whether they are from one or the other group of humans.

The man on my back scream with fury and stabs at my flesh repeatedly while screaming directions. I follow them mindlessly, fueled my adrenaline and the burning aggression by tormentor cultivates in me. I swipe and bite and lunge, not seeing through the haze of pain and not quite caring for more than hoping for a quick end.

Maybe I will die here, again, and not ask for another chance at life. Maybe I'm ready for death. It doesn't seem to be an unlikely option as I receive many new wounds, cuts and stabs and slices in my skin.

I snap out of my dazed state, when I receive a sharp cut across my sensitive nose. Instantly I stop in my tracks. My tormentor sreams and drives his knife again into the bloody mess that my back probably is, but I still take a second to assess the situation.

In front of me, on the ground, lies a man in a green jacket and a blooded kunai in his hand. I know him, I have met him last year. He is my stalker, one of the clanspeople I ran into by accident. The last time I saw him, I had roared at his face and then run away afterwards.

I don't want to hurt him.

I can only see the human that was my constant companion for a few day and never actually attacked me, no matter how big and scary I was.

I don't want to attack him.

So I roar at his face, like the last time I did, because maybe he remembers me as I remember him and I can pretend he is a friend. Then I drop to my side and roll on my back, crushing my tormentor. I keep rolling until I'm off him.

Then I lie still on my side, concentrating on my breathing. My tormentor is not dead but probably wounded. I can hear him getting up and cursing breathlessly and I can only hope that the man I have just spared will kill him for me. I myself don't move at all, because I have decided not to fight any more.

No matter what happens next, I will lie here and die. My wounds are all bleeding strongly and hurting horribly. They are all over my body. Half sealed punctures from my tomentor -some were only days old- combined with the old wounds on my leg -from the boar- and shoulder -from my capture- and together with the new injuries made for one giant hurting mass. The last gift from my tormentor is the knive sticking our of my back, that I drove in deeply with my maneuver, but it is almost lost between all the other pain.

Yes, I am certain. This is where I die, again. At least I have done one good thing in my life. That girl is hopefully back with her family, I hope she can have a nice rest of her life.

My contemplations are interrupted when a pair of sandals step before my eyes. Curious I move my head to see who it is. It's the man in the jacket. The kunai in his hand is dripping blood.

Has he come to end my life?

 _Is he the bearer of my death?_

Heh, heheh.

I huff a painful laugh and drop my head back to the floor.

I don't mind if he is, I'm sure he'll end my suffering in a quick manner.

But he doesn't. Again he annoys me a little, when he lets the kunai slip from his hand and embed itself into the dug up earth.

He then kneels by my head and opens all the buckles to remove my harness. That's nice of him. He also systematically opens and removes all the bindings and chains he can reach without moving me.

I rumble contently. It's good to feel the breeze against the rubbed raw skin. One little comfort before I die. It's so nice of him. I want to thank him but I can't talk and I also don't really want to move.

Once he has taken care of those hated chains, he carefully pulls out the knife on my back.

Why is he doing this? Being so nice ... He doesn't really have a reason to. He doesn't owe me anything and it's not like we're really friends. Does he pity me? Maybe ...

He doesn't stop there though, as I expeted him to, no, he actually starts tending to my wounds. _What is he doing?!_ He wastes his resources to fix a hopelrss case of a bear. Even if he does his best, I doubt he can heal enough for me to survive the night. There are wounds on the side I'm lying on and he can't roll me over.

Tired I lift my head to look at him again. There is a concetrated expression on his face, his eyebrows are pulled together so that the skin of his forehead is creased with wrinkles that aren't normally there. For the first time I realize how young he is. Maybe seventeen but not older. That's probably why his eyes are shiny with unshed tears. I bet this is all a bit overwhelming for a teenager. That's the age where every bad thing is the end of the world.

I huff-laugh again and when he turns to me, I lick all over his constipated face and full my lips back into a grin. He just looks at me for a moment before he really stats to cry.

"I'm sorry", he sobs and I have no idea what he is apologizing for. He has done nothing wrong here, never has to me before. Sure that one time he pulled a kunai on me but he didn't actually attack. So I don't get his apology. Maybe he's simply saying that he is sorry for me? That he pities me?

The boys crying attracts the attention of his comrades and a few of them come over, concerned that he is hurt, which is nice of them. Are they all this nice? I can hardly believe it.

While the boy explains in a steady voice that belies his crying that I had been simply used and abused by my captors, I let my head fall back onto the ground. I don't care to hear this. It is humiliating and embarrassing and pathetic as it is without being stated.

However, I must have missed something because there are suddenly more hands all over my body. Confused I look at them, three people are tending to my wounds, wasting fresh bandages to cover them. I study them.

One is the boy, his face overrun with the tears leaking from dark eyes but with a determined squint on it. The next person was about the same age but was, in contrast to the boys black hair, blonde. I couldn't see the blondes face as they were facing away from me and tending to my hind leg.

The third one was a bulky teenager, about a head taller than the other two and much more heavy-set. He had spikey hair of an enjoayably fierce red colour that framed a kind face. There were some unusual markings on his cheeks, some kind of war paint maybe, but it wasn't like I cared about that. It was more his physique that caught my attention.

In this world I had only ever seen slim people, the only extra mass some of them had was pure muscle. But here the antithesis was, with chubby cheeks and a lot more cuddely belly than I've seen in years.

These people must be pretty prosperous to afford that indulgence. Good for them, kind people deserve a good life.

I am surprised again, as is the trend for the day it seems, when the bulky teenager rolls me over without a problem. He simply grabs my legs and pulls me onto my other side when I don't cooperate innthe effort. It isn't very cofortable but I have to admire their determination to fix me up. No matter though, because they can't carry me to a different place for better healing. I'm still too heavy even in my starved form.

When the boy in the jacket realizes the same, he looks genuinely distraught. He starts arguing back and forth with the rest of his party that have until now simply stood and watched his and his friends' efforts. They refuse to help him in this, because they are old enough to now it is a waste of resources.

Imagine having to feed and nurse a thousand pound bear back to health. I can fully understand and support their decision in not doing that. I don't want to make problems for these people. They've been kind enough to me.

The boy can't accept it however. He fights and yells and cries. The adults keep a clear head though and refuse to help carry me. He wrings a concession out of them though, that if they can get me to move on my own their clans will provide the necessary care.

"But, Shikato, look at him", one of the older men says pointing out my prone form, "He won't make it. He couldn't even roll over on his own."

The boy, Shikato, turns away from him and towards me with a brisk movement. He kneels next to me and picks up my head.

Then he starts talking to me, encouraging me to stand up and come with him. He promises that everything will be okay and that he'll take care of me and that the future will be so much better if only I please, _please_ get up!

He tilts my snout to look me directly in the eye. "Don't you want to live?" He is so desperately serious in his sttemted pep talk that I decide to humor him.

In the pause following his question, I shake my head no. That halts him in his inhaling for a new stream of words.

"You ... you don't want to live?", he asks hesitantly. I shake my head no again.

"But ... But why?"

I stare at him. It's not like I can talk, what does he expect from me? I'm, however, still willing to humor him since he is so unbelievably kind to me, fighting for my life when even I have given up on it. So I lift my head out of his hands and touch my nose against one of the stark white bandages that conceals a deep cut there.

"Because of your leg? No, that's not it. Because of your wounds? They will heal, if you come with us." He looks so hopeful that I almost hate to shut him down. I shake my head again.

"Of course they will." Now he looks outraged. I roll my eyes and point out the bandage again.

"Oh. Then you don't want to live because ... living ... hurts?" He sounds pretty hesitant. I drop my head into his lap again and nod. I'm incredibly tired of getting hurt and dying here in a circle of people who are nice to me sounds good enough.

"I'm sorry", he whispers and cradles my head in this lap, running warm fingers through my fur. I rumble happily and push against his hand. Being petted feels incredibly nice.

Shikato laughs wetly and presses his face into my forehead. _Why is he so attached to me?_ I wonder once again. It makes absolutely no sense that some random stranger would have such strong feelings towards a wild animal after a couple of mostly neutral encounters.

"No", the boy suddenly decides, "No. Life doesn't only hurt. It can be really pretty and wonderful, too. And there are so many good things that can still happen! And you'll never experience them if you only lie around here like some lazy bum!"

There are some snickers from the bystanders as Shikato stands up and lifts my head with him. "Come on. I'll ensure no one will ever hurt you again, if you come with us." I continue to not move.

"If you'll come, then I'll pet you every day and you can eat with us. Come on. I bet you've never had grilled meat, right? The Akimichi make a really good barbeque and I bet it's better than eating raw meat."

I look at him consideringly, then at the other people standing around us. The adults are a mix between exasperated and fond, but the other two youngsters are nodding along with their friend. When my gaze lands on the large guy, he grins speaks up, too. "Shikato knows what he is talking about, my mum makes the best barbeque in all of the elemental nations."

Huffing at the large boy, I look at the one so determined on my survival. I don't really see the point, but if he is so passionate about this, why shouldn't I indulge him? So I nod with a roll of my eyes and start the arduous task of getting up.

It takes a little effort and help from both Shikato and his friends but at the end I'm standing and although everything hurts I am moderately certain that I can make the journey.

Shikato cheers wildly and I huff a breath in his face. It's pretty nice to see someone so happy about my presence.

 **-O-**

I somehow make it to where three clan compounds are nestled one against the other in the middle of the forest. It's peaceful but also lively there. A lot of the people are sceptical at first but accept my presence in their midst easily enough.

Here I get fed and cared for until most of my wounds have healed and I have gained a few more pounds. Shikato keeps his promis to pet me every day. He spends a lot of time with me in the recovery room that has been freed for me. _And how weird is it to sleep inside a building again?_

After I am as recovered as I'll ever be, he leads me to his home, which is a small house at the edge of one of the compounds, and introduces me to his wife, who is a very nice and equally young lady with a toddler in her arms.

Shikato has built a little hut next to his home so that I can live nearby and that is so sweet of him that I push him into the ground in my version of a hug. He just laughs and informs me that there will be a party that night in honour of my recovery.

It is a wonderful celebration. Many people come to see me, out of curiousity mostly but there are some here that I recognise as my new friends. There are a lot of stories being bounced back and forth while we all sit around a truly huge camfire. One of them is about a girl that was kidnapped by horrible bandits but saved by a noble bear. When I hear Shikatos wife tell that tale, I look over and see the proud expression with which he regards me.

Over time I piece together that he thought he chased me off unjustly and beat himself up about it because he had an incling that I wasn't just a stupid beast. When he later heard the story of the girl and the bear, he connected me to the bear in the story and beat himself up about driving such a "noble" creature as me into the arms of people that abused me. The fact that his wife is related to the girl in the story only reinforced his feelings in that.

I still hold fast that it was pretty random how attached to me he became and blame teenage angst, but it's not like I can tell him that, so I usually just huff amusedly whenever he would regale that tale in the coming years.

Sometimes I go out with Shikato when he has an easy assignment away from the compound, but not often, because my leg and shoulder have only healed somewhat and still ache whenever I move. So I usually stay with his wife and daughter and play the big, bad guard dog to anyone that visits the compounds.

It is a role I assume easily. By body is littered with scars that break the thick fur up into uneven patches. Coupled with my huge shape and the long claws nobody wants to cross me. Not that I ever really get into fights anymore. I rarely even go hunting, because my old injuries hinder me too much.

A few years down the line, when I'm starting to feel my age in my bones additionally to all my other aches, I stop going out all together. I spend my days on a sunny patch in front of the compounds gates and let all the little children run around and climb all over me while I keep an eye on them for their parents.

That is how I meet the legendary figures of Senju Hashirama and Tobirama. They come up the road escorted by one of the patrols. I led out a warning call that draws all attention to me. Nudging a child off my back, I stand up and observe the newcomers while the kids run back into the compounds walls.

Once all the children are safely inside, I go to meet the escort and their guests. Senju Hashirama is a kind face, excited as he looks me in the eye and greets me with exhuberance. His brother Senju Tobirama is more wary, eyeing my scarred appearance and only reluctantly acknowledging me as an intellegent being that is fully capable of understanding him when he mutters about the safety of letting children around such a savage and unpredictable beast.

I huff at him, blowing my breath into his face and laugh at his pinched expression that tells me that it smells disgusting. Hashirama laughs with me and I decide that he is probably tolerable. That is why I follow the procession to the house of the Akimich clans head and wait outside the shoji door, shamelessly eavesdropping on the conversation inside.

Shikato joins me after a while, leaning against me and running his hand through my fur. I rumble appreciatively and am most definately heard inside as the conversation pauses for a moment. Then I can hear the Akimichi clan head laugh and whatever I have disturbed resumes.

My friend laughs quietly, also listening in on the offer that is made. "What do you think?", he asks me after a while. I lift my head to look at him. My answer is a huff then a grin and a nod. Shikato understands me well after so many years of companionship.

"Yeah", he agrees, "It sounds like a good idea."

That is how in my last years, I can see how a village is built from the idealistic proposal of a dreamer into a home to many. I can see Shikatos kids grow up in a cultural hodge podge and know them safe behind the walls. I enjoy seeing all the different people coming and going from a spot near the main gate I have claimed for my own on those days that I feel fit enough to make the journey ther from the clan compound.

One of the days I spend at the gates is disrupted when a group of merchants seeking entrance are revealed to be infiltrators from another village. When the ensuing fight threatens to hurt a family waiting at the gate for a returning husband and father, I throw my creaking body into action one last time.

It ends on a high note, because the family is unarmed and the enemy repelled. I feel warm as the kids hug me in thanks for my help. They cry a little, then a lot and this is somewhat familiar, but I regret nothing. It was a good life.


End file.
